Breathe In, Bleed Out
by We Will Avenge
Summary: He attempted to let out a soft, mirthless chuckle, but it only came out as a breathy sob of regret. That seemed more tailored to what he was feeling, after all. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan listened to the pained wheezing of his struggling breaths, praying that somehow his youngling Padawan might be able to get away without him. (set 6 months after TPM)
1. Helpless Death

He had absolutely no clue what to think when the world finally slowed down enough to realize what had happened. His head was absolutely throbbing, which only made him even disoriented on his current situation.

An impossible force constricted his chest and procured a wonderfully slow, suffocating feeling, with far too much agony to inhale deeply and soothe the panic. There was hardly an attempt to do so as the first breath left him gasping in pain and the short, desperate breaths that followed only made the pain harder to ignore.

He couldn't even fully comprehend what had happened until he heard a young voice nearby, felt the sharp, quick gasps of air from his Padawan.

Everything came back to him in a blur, and Obi-Wan looked down to find the youngling in his arms. Shortly before he had realized impact was inevitable, he had dived forward to cover the boy from harm.

He recalled it now, all the events that had resulted in this. The crash. Who knows what had caused it, but the results were devastating. The wreckage left the vehicle totaled and nearly every corner now jutted claustrophobically inward, making the formerly familiar environment unrecognizable. In worse news, there currently seemed to be no direct way out.

Unfortunately, he was now on his back, suggesting very serious injuries. But, though Obi-Wan had taken most of the fall, the movements of his student suggested he was suffering a considerable amount.

"Master…?" Anakin said weakly.

"I'm alright, Anakin," he lied reassuringly. "I'm here."

He felt the Padawan shift ever so slightly and gasp in pain. The poor thing was shaking like a leaf. "Master Windu is going to kill us!" he exclaimed in frustration, followed immediately by another cry of pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame," Obi-Wan murmured, looking around for a way out, as if either of them were in any condition to move if there was. "Are you alright?"

He knew the answer was no, he was only hoping his Padawan wasn't as injured as he was.

"No," admitted Anakin. "I- I can't breathe. Something's definitely broken."

 _That makes two of us_ , Obi-Wan thought.

"Anakin, I don't see another way out. We'll have to wait for help. Can you reach the emergency alert?"

Anakin reached out to the panel, biting back a whimper. "No. There's something blocking it."

Obi-Wan angled his head upward to keep the blood that was streaming steadily from his forehead controlled. "Never mind then. Take deep breaths and stay calm. I'll figure something out."

Anakin focused on his breathing.

Obi-Wan reached up, searching for any function that still worked on whatever control panel happened to be a foot above him in the wreckage. Just killing time, pretending he was doing something to ease the Padawan's panic. Really, he wasn't doing anything. There was nothing that could be done.

They were going to die.

Anakin was young and, therefore, he was the most susceptible to injury. Who knows how either of them managed to stay alive this long in an accident like this. Even if the Force was on their side, there was no way the Padawan would survive this.

It had only been 6 months since he began training him, and now he had successfully doomed them both. He had killed the presumed 'Chosen One'.

And if Anakin died, he would never forgive himself.

He had to get them out of here.

Obi-Wan paused to stifle the sharp, involuntary inhale, followed by a sudden fit of coughing. Over the ringing in his ears, he could hear himself half-gasping and half-coughing as he held tight to his broken ribs. He moved one hand over his mouth, specks of red further staining his hand and sleeve.

"Master Kenobi?" Anakin asked again worriedly. His voice was faint, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. "Hold on, I think there's someone coming."

He froze.

"Anakin," he replied quietly after a deep, strained breath, "the people who inhabit this planet are hostile. Can you run?"

"I think so, Master," Anakin whispered back.

The Jedi paused for a moment, looking around. "Do you see that bent sheet of metal by the control panel?"

"Yes."

"Move it."

The Padawan obeyed. There was the sound of metal scraping metal and moonlight streamed into the wreckage from the window beyond.

"Can you get out through the window?" he asked.

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Get out, run, and do not look back. Find a hiding place. Master Windu will come and get you."

" _What_?" asked his Padawan with disbelief.

"Now, Anakin," he barked. His vision was spotting in and out. The hostiles would look for him first, and he was going to die anyway. "That is an order."

"What about you, Master Kenobi? You'll _die_!"

"Yes, I am going to die, Anakin. Right now you need to run."

"But-"

"I said _run._ This is not a negociation. GO! NOW!"

To yell took all of his breath, and he soon realized the consequences were far worse than discomfort. In the distance, now drawing nearer, were the shrieks and calls of the primitive indigenous creatures that inhabited the region.

Anakin heard it too, and after a moment of reluctance managed to pull himself through the gap in the window. He turned around.

"Promise me you'll be okay, Master!" he pleaded.

"Anakin-" Obi-Wan started in a stern tone.

"Promise!"

He hesitated. "Alright, I will be fine. Now go!"

The Padawan accepted the promise and pushed himself away from the wreckage just as the hostiles came storming to the scene in a pack. The moonlight caught briefly on an object in his pupil's hand.

He frowned, recognizing it, but he was in no condition to process what exactly it was.

Outside, he heard the growls of the hostiles, and waited with dread for them to find the broken window escape- or entrance, in their case.

He turned sharply at a sudden voice that was too close for comfort and rolled quickly to his side, reaching for his lightsaber. Despite the urgent need to protect himself, he instantly regretted the decision as an intense, coarse pain shot throughout his entire body, causing him a cutting agony and stopping him in his place. He could taste blood in the back of his throat as his vision faded out again.

He leaned his head back against a stable piece of wreckage, clenching his jaw and momentarily choking on the sudden sense of breathlessness that came with the motion. He felt around for his weapon with a shaking hand.

It was gone.

Forcing one arm underneath himself, he gently attempted to push himself up, trying to gain enough purchase to move, straining to do what should have been a simple task. Using the wall as an aid, he pushed his apathetic muscles to obey his desperate commands, to move, to stand, to go and protect his helpless and untrained Padawan. But his efforts were only in vain.

His hand slid on the pool of blood that covered the mangled metal beneath him, the slight progress he had made in lifting himself off the ground only increased the agony as he crashed back to the ground. The air was forced from his lungs and lights danced before his eyes, widened with shock and pain.

At that moment, he came to the sorrowful realization that he didn't have the strength to try again.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly- bitterly- to himself, and wondered how close the enemy was to finding him, wondered if they would discover him in the next 45-or-so seconds, while he was still alive. This death seemed quite fitting, of course: an early end caused by pure incompetence, the same lack of caution and ability that had resulted in the death of Qui-Gon. And now, it would result in his own demise, and more likely than not, the demise of his defenseless Padawan. Another young life extingished quickly and violently.

He attempted to let out a soft mirthless chuckle, but it only came out as a dry, breathy sob of regret. That seemed more tailored to what he was feeling anyway. Closing his eyes, he listened to the pained wheezing of his struggling breaths.

A welcome numbness crept through his limbs, the cold creeping into his flesh, his bone. Into his soul. His precious was life slipping away.

 _I've failed you, Master Qui-Gon. I'm sorry._ It was his last coherent thought before he finally succumbed to the blur of hopelessness.

Somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar whoosh of a lightsaber.

The world around him faded to black and the silence slowly became deafening.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 in progress. To be posted soon.**


	2. A Little Brother of Sorts

"He's dead, man. He's a goner. Just give it up."

"I made the kid a promise, didn't I? I said I'd try. Now shut up and let me focus."

The voices were vague, distant. He could barely hear it through the roar of silence in his ears.

 _One..._

His heart- it wasn't beating. His lungs weren't moving. Trying to understand why, _why_ he could still hear voices was only more stressful. The black surrounded him, and he couldn't see or move, but he could feel the darkness. Not cold, not warm either. Not damp, not dry. Just a nothing he couldn't process, that he didn't want to process, for fear of going insane.

 _Two..._

Obi-Wan's chest was captivated by a jarring stillness that only could have meant one thing: he was dead. For how long, he wasn't sure. But he did know that he could still feel, and right now, he was feeling was a striking, intense fear.

Something deep within him begged and pleaded for his heart to start pumping again, for his lungs to take in air again. Perhaps that was what kept him here.

 _Three..._

That faint, outside voice encouraged him.

"Come on, don't quit on me! Get the defib ready, Akiami."

The stillness was soon interrupted by something, a jolt of force. Two minutes passed of thoughtless, silent nothing.

 _Four… Five…_

Another jolt. The stillness turned into a stumbling, uneven rhythm, and a warm feeling rushed into Obi-Wan's fingertips. The surrouning nothing was replaced by life, in all its forms; and by mere existence itself.

Life- the relief to end all relief, and it was highly overrated. At such a sudden introduction, it was shocking, and even painful.

"Ha!" said a voice above him. "He's got a pulse! Get him another dose of Lidocaine."

Obi-Wan's muscles tightened involuntarily, and he shoved himself up onto his forearms, his lungs taking in a sharp, desperate gasp. There were hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down.

"Hey, hey, slow down there," said the voice calmly. "You're alright. You're alright."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan croaked quietly. "Where's Anakin?"

"The little one? He's alright; but you have to rest, okay?"

It felt like his entire body was on fire- like every bone inside of his body had been utterly shattered; he couldn't even breathe without it making the pain worse. Obi-Wan was completely tense, afraid that even the slightest movement would only drag him further down in agony.

Slowly, as if he expected the light to melt them back into their sockets, he opened his eyes. Two faces, two pairs of green eyes stared back at him.

"Welcome back," said the female one, "to the land of the living."

* * *

A soft groan escaped his lips with the headache and the sting behind his eyes that followed his regained sense of consciousness. He breathed, cautiously expanding his ribcage, justifying if it was a good idea to move. A dull ache stopped him, but it was no pain worth noting. He scraped up the exhausted strength to lift himself to his elbows.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the light of the room before looking around. A typical medical bay setting. The air smelt of disinfectant and linoleum. To his left, he heard the beeping of a monitor tracing the rhythms of his heartbeat.

He didn't understand why or how he was still alive, but damn, he was grateful. He remembered the cold, inanimate feeling that was once in his body and couldn't help but shiver. The dry feeling in his mouth pressured a humble, uncritical search for water.

To his right, he noticed a small red button. Above it, a sign read something in Mando'a. It took him a moment to read, but eventually he worked out the directions _Ukoror par Gaa'tayl-_ "Push for Assistance". Beside it, a small note was taped to the wall, reading in Galactic Basic, "Sir, if you happen to be awake, please let us know at once."

He nodded slightly to himself and pressed the button.

Less than a second in response, running footsteps echoed from the hallway, and the door swung open. A team of nurses rushed into the room, gathering around him.

He blinked against a dim flashlight that was swept in front of his eyes.

The Jedi could still smell the smoke that lingered on him. The wandering first-aid responders explained that they had brought him here after receiving a distress transmission on an emergency channel about 7 parsecs away. He had been brought here and revived a little over an hour ago, and had been unconscious since.

"Amazing," breathed the male medic, "less than 90 minutes ago you had no visible vitals, and now your brain is fully functional, most of your _mortal_ injuries have healed, and you can even move freely. What _are_ you, man?"

"Forgive me if I'm not sure how to answer that," Obi-Wan replied, his voice still low from exhaustion. He moved himself to the edge of the hospital mattress, sitting upright.

Icarus shrugged as he observed a long, partially healed cut along Obi-Wan's forehead. "I mean, what kind of person can heal almost entirely in 15 minutes with one dose of Epinephrine? The little one was back on his feet in about 7 minutes. He had _four_ broken ribs- which was child's play compared to you!"

Anxiety pooled in Obi-Wan's stomach. "About Anakin…?"

"He's in the other room. Let me finish up here, then you can see him."

He let out a breath. Poor thing… how long had he waited for help before they had found them? It was all his fault.

"I gotta say," said Akiami from the corner as she cleaned up some equipment, "you would've died if it weren't for your brother, there."

He frowned. "What?"

"Anakin was the one who called us. We were in the area, and he reached us on a radio channel through a comlink and a bent holoterminal wire. How ingenious is that? Told us everything when we got here, how you got him out before yourself, how he chased off those rockdogs, how he got the radio working, all with broken ribs! Very brave of him. You've got quite the little brother."

Obi-Wan looked down, his mind racing. It took him a moment to comprehend it, but he was ashamed. Ashamed he had underestimated his Padawan's capabilities. He smiled. "He _is_ something else, isn't he?"

"You both are," said Icarus. The responder looked at him incredulously. "Are you _sure_ you don't know how you're alive? You healed like a Jedi Knight; it's a miracle!"

"I would suppose the reason is that I _am_ a Jedi Knight."

Akiami spun around, laughing at her partner. "I told you!"

Icarus blinked. "That would explain a lot. You Jedi have really lived through some crazy things. And is that Anakin a Jedi too? Do they start that young?"

"Anakin is my Padawan, yes," Obi-Wan said. "He's not a Jedi yet."

"You need guts to be in the heat of the war at that age." Icarus let out a small chuckle. "I swear, I wish all our patients were as calm as you two," he turned and left the room, the door open behind him.

"You're in Mandalore Orbital Station Medical Bay, by the way," said Akiami.

He tensed, and his heart legitimately fluttered on the monitor. He turned to face her. "Mandalore?"

The Mando'a sign probably should have been what tipped him off, but his familiarity with the language hadn't alarmed him in any way.

Akiami turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why, got trouble here?"

"Well, yes," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "you could say that."

"Don't worry, I won't tell. If you're wanted criminals, then we've never heard of you and this never happened, capiche?"

"We're not criminals. I just… I'd rather keep away from here. Rather not bury the hatchet with someone important here yet. How far away is the Capitol?

She gave a small smile, turning back to finish her work. "I know that feeling. You'll be relieved to know Duchess Kryze is in the Capitol, currently on the opposite side of the planet. The Station is in orbit above the Norac'mar Cejesa district, far away from her."

He sighed, then paused, frowning in surprise. "I… I didn't say anything about the Duchess."

Now would be a really good time to know where his lightsaber was. He dared not take his suspicious gaze from her as she moved to disconnect him from the monitor.

"You didn't need to. I know who you are, Kenobi. We've met before, very briefly."

"But how did you-"

Akiami took a clipboard from the corner table. "The Force is in more than just the Jedi."

She turned towards the door just as Icarus returned, handing him the clipboard as she passed. He glanced at it, nodded, and waved in a small figure.

Anakin stepped forward, timidly at first, then saw him and rushed into the room, arms outstretched. He stopped, however, and backed off, looking at Icarus.

"Is it okay to hug him?" the Padawan asked nervously.

The medic smiled, writing something down on the clipboard. "We actually encourage it," he said, turning away and following Akiami down the hallway.

Anakin collided with him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Obi-Wan laughed and gave his Padawan's hair a ruffle.

"They told me about what you did," he said with a smile.

The boy took a step back, looking down. "I'm sorry I disobeyed your instructions, Master Kenobi. I won't do it again,"

"I was hoping you'd think differently. What you did was very brave and cunning, Anakin. Those are attributes of a Jedi that are hard to learn, but you take to them quite naturally."

"Do you think so?" he said, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes. I made the mistake of doubting you, and I should be the one apologizing to you. Thank you for having good judgment in... 'bending the rules'. That's something I have yet to learn, I suppose. Thank you for saving my life."

"Well, you saved mine, Master. I guess we're square."

He chuckled. "I guess we are."

Anakin smiled lightly, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, right. I found your lightsaber outside the IPV1. I think it's still okay; it's a little scratched up though."

He took the saber from his belt and held it out to him. Obi-Wan took it, noticing a few new scratches along its handle. He looked at Anakin, almost certain it was how he drove away the rockdogs. It was easy to forget how capable Anakin was for his age, but years of slave labor- sad as it was- had most likely given him a head start on the skills of a Jedi. He wouldn't underestimate him, now. Never again.

"Tell you what," the Jedi said, "when we get back to Coruscant, I think it's time you started building your own lightsaber."

"Really?" the excitement and honor in his eyes was undeniable.

"Yes."

He shifted in anticipation. "Thank you, Master," he said collectedly.

In his heart, Obi-Wan knew it would take some convincing for the Jedi Council to let Anakin create a weapon this early into his training. But he knew the boy could handle the responsibility.

After all, Anakin was 11 years old. He was the supposed _Chosen One_. What could possibly happen?


End file.
